I’m leaning against her bedroom doorframe, smiling back and nodding in agreement. ‘Totally’ I think ‘I’m totally about to buy a house too’. This is my second flat viewing of the week and I get the feeling we’re at the beginning of a long and painful journey.
By we, I mean Emily and me, who after walking the length and breadth of our local park, clutching croissants in mitten clad hands and sitting on possibly every available bench, have decided to move in together. It’s a no brainer and this year marks eight years of friendship. Plus we’ve seen each other through it all. From the quick catch up calls when we were both at different unis, ‘hi, how are you? My dog died, how’s the course going, do you still hate it?’ to unintentionally wearing matching outfits, all the Pizza Express three-course meals, summer afternoons with ice cream from George & Danver’s, buying flowers for the good times and listening when shit went south (and whatever below south is).
Two days prior to my venture to Wapping, we saw our first property. A medium-sized, modern flat with a tiny east-facing balcony overlooking a park with one of those outdoors gyms in it. I was early to the viewing so was forced to make small talk about working from home with the realtors who had arrived in a heavily branded company car. Whilst chatting we could hear the downstairs tenants having sex, which really set the tone for the rest of the afternoon. That property is still on the market before you ask.
Now with five viewings under our belts, Emily and I seem to be getting into the swing of things. It, therefore, feels apt to share my observations with you in case you’re thinking of moving and want some tips on looking for places in lockdown.
Note: Moving is one of the things that can still be done during lockdown here in the UK. Em and I are both very safe, well and follow the guidelines provided. Don’t forget your mask. This is just common sense. I take hand sanitiser too.
I went to a few viewings a couple of years ago and it was mayhem. You’d be in a property at the same time as at least 10 other people while you all fought over a mouldy bathroom. Now it’s staggered and you see places either a) on your own b) with the estate agent or c) with the current tenants and realtor (all very safe).
Soo many properties are empty which has forced landlords to come down on their usual, extortionate prices. It’s now a tenant's market (exciting) so don’t be afraid to go under offer. Strike while the irons hot. Get your dream place for less!
There’s no point going if you both aren’t free.
Find someone who is prepared to put in as much effort as you are when it comes to finding a place.
Take a video tour like you're a vlogger so you can look back at it later when you’re conferring over a cup of tea. I also send these to my parents and siblings so it feels like we’re all viewing it together.
Figure out the unique selling point of a property. Is it close to a tube station? Near work? Near a park? For me, it’s all about finding the perfect spot for a desk. I make the same sarcastic joke about working from home at each viewing and it goes down a treat.
Prime Location and Right Move eat away at my soul late at night.
Six days of the week I think this is a really bad idea.
Six days of the week I think this is a really bad idea.
Seven days of the week I think this is a really good idea.
Estate agents still give you the whole spiel despite the rental market being on the floor. A lot of the flats are really great but nothing beats that feeling you get when you know it's the right one, and that won't change regardless of what the realtor says about other bidders, the local area etc.
Communicate with your current flatmates and landlord despite my previous point, properties still move fast in London and things can really change in a week.
Ask about bills and council tax.
Looking at furniture on IKEA is the perfect way to spend a boring Sunday afternoon. I've made a list already.
Have fun out there kids, stay safe,
Lauren x
(The above picture is from around 2014/2015, it's not recent at all)
Clearing the draining board is a task I lament. It’s the most annoying, frustrating and laborious part of my day, despite only taking a mere 20 seconds to complete. I don’t look forward to it, I am upset when the plates are in my hands and afterwards I feel no sense of relief. Sometimes I leave it for my flatmate to do, silently praying to the Gods of washing up with my fingers, arms and toes crossed, but this request has not proven so fruitful.
Whilst removing last night’s plates from the side, I felt consumed by the monotony of every day, recalling how we’ve almost been in lockdown for a year. I’m struck by my own ambivalence to milestones, sliding through Christmas as if it was just an additional missed stop on an already growing list of failed turns.
Now the kettle is boiling and I’m distracted by the thought of 'should I have tea or a slice of lemon with honey?' I’ve had my hair in three different hairstyles for three different zoom calls. I bought a new phone case, ‘it’s sage green’ my friend notices when I call her; I’ve changed my wallpaper to a photo that reminds me of summer.
In the mundane and the quiet, clearing the draining board included, I find myself. A steady rhythm I’ve never had, or known or realised was missing. I look forward to the smallest moments, a new recipe to try, a new place to walk, a new book in the post. I’m vaguely content as I run my hand over a curl, noticing the change in length of my hair as a measure of passing time. When I complete these tasks I'm alone, sparked by a growing need for solitude and a deeper understanding of my individual capabilities.
Over the weekend I made a list of aspirations and goals, putting pen to paper in order to loosely formulate a plan for myself. (Owning a grey whippet with blue eyes is high up on the list). Before the festive season collapsed the way it did, I had already been feeling a little lost and confused. As January draws to a steady and sure close, I've severed ties with those inclinations, snipping the wires in my head providing blood flow to negative thoughts, imploring myself to pour this energy into activities and relationships which enable me to prosper. Slowly, I've begun to wrestle with the parts of me that struggle to make adult decisions, oftentimes choosing instead to spin around in circles like a penny in spiral wishing well, instead of going for what I really want.
Now, it's the tiniest things I look forward to. A croissant from the boulangerie, porridge in the morning, reading a book before bed, warm showers, an undiscovered side road, a different perspective. Those small moments propel me forward and I'm once again curious about the future rather than afraid.
I also made this playlist on Spotify
Take care of yourselves,
Until the next one,
Lauren xo
More often than not these days I find myself Googling every question on my mind. This can be anything from health symptoms, to working out how tall I'd be if I was wearing 6 inch heels, to tomato soup recipes and sneaker raffles I'll never win.
So it’s your usual Tuesday evening, and I’m uncomfortably close to the mirror analysing every pore on my face, plucking my eyebrows and wondering why my blackheads won’t just leave me alone. A brief thought reminds me of a time my flatmate's old boyfriend told him his pores could eat the world and I wonder, in panic, if mine could too. This intense, and unnecessary, magnification of my own face is making me realise I also have several growing spots taking pride of place on my chin.
This means, and I’m sure for all women it’s the same, my period is imminent, overdue in fact, and I’m soon to bloat, cry when I can't find a specific soup bowl, crave obscure snacks and listen to a scary amount of dramatic, emotional music. However, it’s not that straightforward for me.
Five years ago I went almost a year without a period. I put this down to the stress of moving to uni, a breakup, and being in a very negative space mentally. Periods are tricky little buggers and even when I was younger a usual cycle for me could be thrown off by exam worries and study pressures. A trip to the GP informed me that the actual reason I hadn’t experienced a menstrual cycle for nine months (don’t worry I did take a pregnancy test in the loos of my university’s art block, it was negative) was down to Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS for short. I did a few ultrasounds, submitted my blood for science, had both internal and external scans of my own reproductive system from various hospital rooms and yet, I’m still not sure what it all means.
Polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) is a common condition that affects how a woman's ovaries work.
The 3 main features of PCOS are:
1. Irregular periods – which means your ovaries do not regularly release eggs (ovulation)
2. Excess androgen – high levels of "male" hormones in your body, which may cause physical signs such as excess facial or body hair
3. Polycystic ovaries – your ovaries become enlarged and contain many fluid-filled sacs (follicles) that surround the eggs (but despite the name, you do not actually have cysts if you have PCOS)
Consequently, out of sheer panic and boredom, about 5 or 6 times a month I’ll do an intense dive about PCOS online, opening thousands upon thousands of tabs, cramming my browser with stories, diagrams, diet lists and advice only to then shut down my phone and forget it all. If I'm hand on heart honest, none of it helps, it makes me feel worse, yet I perservere in a desperate attempt to find a story that resonates with mine. After I was diagnosed with PCOS I cried. At twenty, I'd not really given the idea of having kids much thought, yet I still felt like I'd fundamentally and biologically failed as a woman. Every time I went for a scan I would always ask 'will I be able to have children?' of which the nurse would respond, 'I don't see any reason why not'.
If you Google it, like I have 14,000 times, there are tonnes of women sharing their stories, from Emma Thompson to Victoria Beckham. I even vividly remember my doctor telling me about how her friend at school who was diagnosed with it. This girl had it so bad that the doctors basically said that it was all a no go (I’m motioning to my lower stomach when I talk about this). As a result, she just never bothered using protection because she thought, you know. Turns out, the doctors were wrong and now she has three kids.
A real mind game.
I don't really have a solution for this but I just wanted to share my story in case it helps. I'll continue to utilise Google for answers but a lot of time I end up reading the same thing over and over again. I have a pretty rigid skincare routine to help my face 99% of the time, I exercise now (long walks since the gyms shut) and recently decided to cut all sugary drinks from my diet. I also stopped gorging myself on Deliveroo or UberEats and have noticed a real improvement in my overall mood, clarity of mind and all things bank concerned.
What I will say is, I don't often read this: on occasion I feel really embarrassed about having PCOS and I'm a little jealous of my friends who regularly menstruatue. What if I marry a guy and I can't have kids? What if I have miscarriages (something a lot of women who suffer from PCOS talk about). What if. What if. What if. Though lying in bed at 3am and worrying about this sounds pedantic or dramatic, it does cross my mind from time to time. In saying that though, as a woman, there are so many more attributes I possess beyond my ability to reproduce and I'm not going to let PCOS define what I can and can't do, especially when it comes to being a mother.
TAKE CARE, positive thoughts only,
Until the next one,
Lauren xo
P.S More info available at nhs.uk - do not self diagnose, even if you have symptoms similar to above, I recommend seeing a GP if you're worried. They will carry out the necessary steps to help you!
I also have mashed potato on my jumper, leggings and part of the washing machine. 'How did this happen?' my flatmate asked 'it just did' I replied with tears in my eyes.
Last night I decided to cook butternut squash soup, from scratch, after lying in bed for five hours looking at single-occupancy apartments in Brighton and wondering if I was maximising my existence on God's green earth. In short, I'm not. I want a dog, and I want to walk on the beach and buy a sofa and fall in love with my neighbour as he helps me move a piece of furniture. (That's not really me getting the most out of my life either but it's a parallel universe I'm currently dwelling in). I checked my credit score yesterday as well (don't do this) after I read an article about how dodgy Klarna can be. I was horrified to discover I had an outstanding payment of £50 for a cardigan from & Other Stories. I'm telling you now, hand on heart, I have never missed a bill payment, have a direct debit set up to my credit card and would shudder at the thought of being late on my rent, YET I still spent a sweaty 20 minutes panicking about that fucking cardigan.
I take it back, I love that cardigan.
But also, fuck you cardigan.
Anyway, something is wrong and it extends beyond lockdown, beyond the everyday mundane. It's like a tectonic shift in my very core, a small question mark in the back of my mind that started as a whisper and is now a loud scream; it's telling me to get out of London. Run. Leave. Maybe I have a sixth sense? Maybe I'm clairvoyant? Maybe I'm being overly dramatic (quite possibly). Maybe it's my overriding desire to bolt at various stages of my life because I feel like I've outgrown them, like a lizard shedding its skin. Maybe I should start a cookbook? The only thing really stopping me is the fact that they wouldn't even be my original recipes because they're all just ones I've found on Google and modified by adding more cheese. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
I think I'd miss London too much.
I went to the bathroom and had a flash in the pan moment where I acknowledged how tremendous my skin was suddenly looking and how I feel like I've really grown into my face. Then the mashed potato incident happened and I'm still wearing the same clothes with the starchy residue smeared on the leg where I tried to stop the food sliding down the washing machine.
*Take a deep breath*
I wish Dr Martens would stop sending me so many emails.
I've unsubscribed.
That's it, that's the post. If you resonate with this I just hope you know it's okay to feel this way, all weird and confused and stuck but also not stuck but also just not sure about what's going on at all. There's this total abundance of time to think, reflect, absorb and over analyse. Have you seen The Social Dilemma on Netflix? I've taken a huge step back from all my apps since watching that and have found myself a bit more at peace once I controlled my intake of content online.
Goodbye, 4 now,
Lauren xo
Today was the second day I went out with a tag left inside a recently bought piece of clothing because I’m still on the fence about it. I’ve worn it all day, this dress from Zara, pairing it with tights, a sweater vest and some under the knee boots* which I am as equally unsure about. I’ve been on a walk, to the pharmacy, checked the postbox, taken out the recycling, made lunch and sat in various rooms in the flat in order to reach a conclusion about whether or not to keep the dress.
My wardrobe is reminding me of what it was like to go from wearing school uniform every day to the chaos of dressing in my own clothes for sixth form, aka never sure which personality 17 year old me was going to channel when I woke up. Flinging open the cupboards of my closet every morning and acknowledging that I hate 98% of my clothes, yet feeling determined to make them work in new and exciting combinations, is becoming a slight pre 9am thrill for me. Only slight.
So I suppose this is my 678th return to blogging after a brief jaunt away to enjoy whatever Christmas season we just experienced in the UK.
My flatmates and I successfully cooked a Christmas dinner together (my first ever away from home, scroll for a snap) and I am pleased to say that it was a roaring success. A combination of vegan and non-vegan food was consumed with joy before I spent the hours which followed in a weird sparkling wine-fuelled daze. I never believed it would be possible to grow tired of a city but I do believe London will grind me down to a fine enough (and small enough) point that I will eventually slip between the ever-growing gaps in our floorboards, stuck in the grasps of our capital city forever. The only remedy I can think of right now is getting 14 tattoos and piercings once we are ‘out the other side’ of 'this' - whatever that means.
Did I think about a possible New Year's resolution during the strange days that reside between the 25th and 31st of December? Not really, but I do want to try and be present, listen to more podcasts and truly love life. I turned 25 just before lockdown was implemented in England last year, and as I'm hurtling towards 26 I'm determined to make the best of 2021, however short it may be.
Now in a national lockdown for six weeks (which was needed waaaay before Christmas) I wonder what we'll all look like when we emerge mid-February? Hopefully stronger, with a protected NHS and our mental states intact. Do I dare to dream after 2020?
*are not all boots under the knee?
I hope all my readers and their loved ones are safe and well in what again is a very uncertain time.
Until my next sporadic post,
Buh-bye xoxo
I seem to be having some reoccurring bad luck lately which is this: I run into our local (very, very small) convenience store in search of a maximum of three things at any given time, crisps, fish fingers or feta cheese. This specific shop has around three aisles, four if you include where the till is, and a frozen section the size of our washing machine. So, there I am, three things in hand, or maybe two or maybe one and I'm in the queue leaning on my heels as I suck in the air on the inside of my mask.
I take my time to do some careful mental gymnastics, calculating how long I have left of my lunch break vs how many minutes the fish fingers are going to take to cook. I'm going to be out of here in no time. Then, in a state of mild panic, I watch the customer in front of me slide an overflowing basket across the counter as the contents squeezes against the perspex divider. The supermarket employee then starts bagging the items as fast as she can as a significant line forms behind me. I turn to look at the queue and there's a girl struggling with a very large bottle of water, I didn't even know they sold them in here, do they? How Interesting. Sweat is beginning to accumulate on my forehead and I'm two Taylor Swift songs deep without having moved anywhere.
I blame myself, and poor timing, my bastard impatience, and shit luck.
1. Met up with Em today to get very soggy hot chocolates in the rain.
2. Our landlord stopped by last weekend and dropped off a few Christmas goodies for us, which included this mistletoe and eucalyptus candle and it apparently smells like a brisk winter morning walk. Not sure on that one.
3. Sky over London showing off.
4. Very Intense Christmas decorations that left me wondering how the occupiers enter their home.
5. Here is a picture of me xo
Closed tabs of the week:
Something about the Sims 4 update. Estrid razors. How to stop spiralling. Mariah Carey's Magical Christmas special. Uniqlo website. Mint tea. Mall Grab. Ordering tracking for three different things. Eytys Halo black leather trainers. Here's the right way to approach your gym crush (lol). Dubarry boots.
Skincare update:
Hormonal problems aside my skin is looking a lot, lot better and Emily even told me today that I looked like I was glowing! I stopped wearing foundation about a year ago so when I get a super bad pimple I find it really distracting BUT in the past week I have noticed such an improvement in my skin which is a huge relief for my confidence.
NEARLY CHRISTMAS, I am absolutely shattered, what a year.
Lauren xo
I had an unexpected double trip to the dentist in the week which was as expensive, as annoying and as painful as it sounds. I blame my longstanding sweet tooth that has guided me nowhere but to misery. Still, at 25, I will go to Tesco, do an armful of grocery shopping, and with my one spare finger, scoop up a bag of Strawbs on my way to the till. It's embarrassing and I've decided to go cold turkey on sugar...
As last week's weekly round-up was so shambolic, I tried to make a real effort this week to capture more content so here we go.
1. I had my haircut waaaaay back in August and now it's started to get rather long. It's actually caught in that weird 'it's not short, it's not long' phase, which means it'll tie back nicely but unfortunately still looks a bit like a mushroom when it's down. (I'm growing it out by the way).
2. I'm making leaps and bounds in the skincare department having now fully committed myself to an extensive morning and night routine. Salicylic acid every other day before bed, CeraVe every day, twice a day, morning and night, SPF every morning after moisturiser and a star face spot patch when there's a pesky little lump on my face.
3. Me to myself when I don't leave enough time in to have a morning walk.
4. The sunsets in London, when it's not pissing it down, have been amazing recently!
5. Urgh okay - I went to the gym last night and then came straight home to a half-prepared chicken pie which meant leftover pastry for me to make this incredible chocolate twist with. Long story short I left it in the oven for too long and fucked it.
6. An unsuccessful Christmas Tree shopping excursion.
Other bits:
So we're fully into December now, how's that happened?!
Closed tabs:
How many times a day should you floss? Will a two-week vacation ruin all your gym progress? Tracking a parcel with Hermes. Frizzy hair winter (but in my lack of time I typed frozzy haor winter in the hopes that Google would understand). Cheek biting: causes, symptoms and treatments (yes, yes I did get fitted for a nightguard). Mood changes before a migraine (bad headaches starting to creep in again). A picture of Shania Twain because my dentist said I looked like her. If I have fine hair, how many times a week should I wash it? All in one long johns (I'm cold okay?!) Sore after sitting? Try these three stretches.
UNTIL NEXT WEEK, stay safe,
Lauren xo
After reading a post on Reddit, I’ve concluded I’m allergic to McDonald’s, I think. The canker sores and ulcers in my mouth would agree too, which are, according to user123, a result of the salt that's been liberally applied to all their fries. Maybe I’ve reached the age where I can’t handle McDonald’s anymore? Sad.
ANOTHER SEVEN DAYS DOWN as we hurtle towards Christmas and the end of 2020.
Embarrassingly, I've not really taken any photos this past week and have instead concluded the end of November with a litre bottle of Bailey's and a bar of Toblerone.
1. This first image I didn't even take, Jules took it from our flat's living room window in the week, but how amazing was the sky?????? Thanks, Jules.
2. I got a croissant and a cup of tea from a boulangerie near us at the weekend
3. A dumpster in the lake topped with a rogue slice of bread.
Closed tabs: Love knot stud earrings. CeraVe moisturising cream. The best crispy chicken parmesan. Bamboo trousers from AYM. Olaplex No.6. Tiny zodiac studs from Bing Bang. VIB biscuits meaning. Punch needling. Jeffrey Campbell Dagget Western boots.
⭐️ Starface three-week review ⭐️
Skin is slightly on the mend I have to say. I've got small spots here and there but it's not as sore looking as it was around a month ago when it was much worse. I have a pretty solid routine now of cleanser, exfoliating water, moisturiser etc and even use saltwater when my spots get really bad too. It's not perfect but I'm definitely feeling more confident in my skin and I think having a better routine helps this.
Quote for the week 'I have licked the fire and danced in the ashes of every bridge I ever burned. I fear no hell from you' - Nicole Lyons
TILL THE NEXT ONE,
Lauren xo
Two things: Firstly, somehow and someway, this weekend marks my one year anniversary of living in London. I honestly have no idea where the time has gone and mentally I’m still in March. Nonetheless, and to commemorate this momentous occasion, I took a quick dive into my camera roll in order to temporarily relive exactly where I was 12 months ago. What. A. Ride. In between pictures of my now closed office, various snaps of the once dreaded commute, and a few absolutely horrendous selfies I found allllllll the images I had amassed from each flat viewing I went to last November and October.
This was a very painful experience, and sort of like dating I guess. You go in, you take a tour, you say your bit about yourself, they says theirs, you try and be funny, crack a few jokes, you’re not sure if they like you, you’re not sure if you like them and then you leave and hope for the best.
I saw the flat we’re living in now before going to look around a family home in Stoke Newington where, for some reason, the estate agent humoured me and gave me a very in-depth viewing even though we both knew I had no intentions of living there. ‘There’s a hole in the floorboards here but we’re having it looked at’. Great. Anyway, like I said, by that point I’d already seen our flat, I was in love, nowhere else was good enough and here we are today.
Secondly, this weekend also marks the two year anniversary of something of which I am sure I will never fully come to terms with. I've tried many times to define traumatic loss, both when dealing with my own emotions and when discussing things with those closest to me, but I can never quite formulate the perfect sentence. CALM, who if you don't know, are a charity that does a tremendous job at raising awareness around suicide, particularly in males. They have an active helpline, tabs on getting support and many resources on maintaining good mental health during lockdown too.
I also want you to know, dear reader, that you are never alone, not ever. Hold on. The sun will rise again tomorrow, it'll be a new day, a fresh start and we will try again. I am right here with you.
Seven days down, let's do this.
1. The temperature has dropped significantly in London. Here’s me in multiple layers, standing by our electric heater, drying my sheets and drinking a smoothie.
2. I had Wednesday off work so Jules and I went to get these delicious falafel wraps from a place near us. I haven’t had them since the summer and it was such a treat!
3. We’re deliberating about what kind of tree to get this year for the flat, these mini ones are £25 from a local garden centre. What do we think about tinsel?
4. It’s officially Bailey’s season. Did you know you can get Bailey’s red velvet? Neither did I.
5. Today I took it upon myself to dye some trousers and of course, like any sensible person, I wore a pair of yellow Marigolds to protect my delicate hands. Unbeknownst to me the rubber gloves had sustained a lesion when I used them to wash up once and consequently the dye got through the Marigolds, onto my fingers and the rest is history.
Closed tabs: An oversized wool-blend workwear shirt. Fact of fiction: water and acne. CORSX Salicylic acid daily gentle cleanser. BBC News homepage. The Alita: Battle Angel cast. 6 simple ways to reduce water retention. Parcel tracking for Collect+. A picture of a pheasant. A picture of a Leonberg dog. The best chewy chocolate chip cookies recipe from Tasty (they called it 'best' that not me). What causes occasional tooth pain? About the Covid flu jab. Awful Rivers Demita Wall mug from Carhartt. Love knot stud earrings. Where is See filmed? The best crispy chicken parmesan.
⭐️ Starface two-week review ⭐️
Around a month ago I was going through a prettyyy bad patch with my skin, a few deep under the skin spots here and a lot of blackheads there. Now I've implemented a pretty good skincare routine and have noticed my skin is on the mend. It's not going to happen overnight but I reckon after around a month there should be a significant change.
Thought for the week (and something I saw on Pinterest) 'yesterday was heavy, put it down'.
Stay safe out there kiddos,
Lauren xo
Yet, undeterred, I try. Today’s offering is a pair of beige trousers, bought several sizes too large and nipped in at the waist by my favourite tailors, a white turtle neck for warmth, a cream fuzzy cardigan (that looks itchy but isn’t) and a cropped tartan overshirt. The look is then finished off with some very tired Air Force 1s and an overstuffed leather handbag that’s drooping in the middle under the weight of my phone, keys, hand sanitiser, mask, life, etc etc, you know. I usually twist my brunette bob into the grips of a splintered Superdrug claw and pretend I’m Bella Hadid.
As I reach the stretch of houses that lead to the park, and while giving myself a pep talk in the form a podcast about independence fronted by two hilarious females, I keep a keen eye out for other people’s wardrobe picks. It's a plethora of lycra, headbands, fingerless gloves, breath that hangs in the air, the squeaky sound of running jackets, those water bottles shaped like a loop you can clutch as you speed walk, all completed by the exasperated sigh of someone's stride I’ve just unintentionally broken when taking a picture of a nice looking tree.
I wade through orange leaves and feel embarrassed. ‘You should’ve come in your Gym Shark leggings and New Balance trainers Lauren, for Godsake’ I lament as I repeat cuss words into the cold air feeling like I’ve missed some imaginary pre 10am memo. I’m uncool and definitely not active enough to be here, sticking to the outer banks of the park like I’m a newbie swimmer in bright, overfilled armbands. ‘You don’t even own a pair of running trainers’ I remind myself as I stand by the mouth of a puddle to let some experts sashay past me in matching 3M leggings.
Rounding a corner, the park opens up which means seasoned athletes begin to blend with bundled up dog owners whose pets are running feral in the soft mud. This is a sea of shin-length Uniqlo puffer jackets, Dubarry boots, expensive-looking knit hats, jeans tucked into cream knit socks and perfect morning hair that looks unbrushed but we all know isn’t. I’m now feeling even more aggressively overdressed, doubling up my walk as I force a smile at someone’s puppy before catching the eye of its owner and feeling my insides recoil. What am I even doing here?
To feel accepted I pause and take a picture of the lake, which in this spot smells of rotting egg. I'm too embarrassed to figure out the queuing system for the cafe so I spend a while feigning interest in the park's resident wildlife as they thrash around in the water. Oh look, some cygnets. Finding a quiet moment away from incredibly happy looking couples, very fast cyclists and people doing strange stretchers on benches, I muster up the courage to applaud myself (silently) for making such an effort to dress up for this small part of my day. This is my slice of recreation time and I’m not going to waste it as I feel I would if I was still in my flat eating a half cold toasted bagel with butter.
Adjusting my AirPods so as to not miss any important piece of information about learning to love my own company (I do) I remember how I used to put this much thought and consideration into my summer outfits for absolutely no reason other than to wear something nice on a two-mile round trip to Tesco. Though feeling like I've slightly overdone it and a little on the cooler side for this especially chilly November morning in London, I think it's incredibly important to take these small. personal moments of joy where we can. Also, I'm 100% certain the runners a) don't give a shit b) even notice me.
Dear park, I'll be back tomorrow and this time I'm thinking tights and a satin dress, I'll see you then.
Lauren xo
On Friday I made cheese on toast with beans for lunch, which was then closely followed by a lukewarm cheese string that had been out the fridge for too long. I pulled together this award-winning meal after letting out a few dry sobs and listening to Bloc Party.
Other bits:
Despite this confession, its been a good week lets get into it.
1. I went out walking in the week (I’m trying to get out and about every day for at least half an hour) and got absolutely drenched, like soaked. Water was dripping from my nose and I ended up stopping in an alcove to slick my hair back.
2. It feels totally unnatural and alien to say this BUT here’s me and Jules stocking up on booze for the weekend (as well as a selection of crackers and nibbles to accompany the truly horrific films we’ve been watching on Netflix)
3. The fairy lights in my room have been broken for about eight months, so in honour of the Christmas season that is upon us I finally bought some new ones.
4. Shadows in the light in our flat
5. Cute little coffee van in the park with delicious hot chocolate!
Other bits:
1. Could I pull off a beret? Yes.
2. I've reached the earth-shattering realisation that I don't drink enough water. Tbh I already knew this but now I really know so I've bought a water bottle with one of those reminder things on it to tell me how much to drink during the day so I have no excuse.
3. STARFACE update: I'm breaking out quite badly at the moment on my face as no fault of the product (it's a combination of hormones, lack of hydration and stress) but I will say the night exfoliator is really good and is enabling me to feel much better about my skin.
Closed tabs of the week: (I discovered this week that if you have more than 100 open tables on Google Chrome, a smiley face appears at the bottom).
A PDF on living with worry and anxiety amidst global uncertainty that my support counsellor set to me. A phone case from xouxou. A Google search for overshirts. Why do I look bloated when I wear jeans? A review of some personalised Christmas mugs on Etsy. BBC News homepage. Kermit the Frog keyring. Goodhood homepage.
Quote for the week: “Owning our story can be hard but not nearly as difficult as spending our lives running from it. Embracing our vulnerabilities is risky but not nearly as dangerous as giving up on love and belonging and joy—the experiences that make us the most vulnerable. Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light.” from my favourite Brené Brown
Stay safe out there kids,
Lauren xo
What a weird week. The past few days have been some kind of strange, dystopic pendulum swing between routinely checking the US election results and clicking on the Coronavirus tab on the BBC News website as we go into a second lockdown.
Now I'm listening to The XX like it's 2009.
1. It's layering season. I'm slowly going to give all my money to Zara and hate myself.
2. The light at around 2/3pm gets really nice in the flat.
3. Squeezing in one more decaf iced latte before it gets truly, truly freezing and I can't stand cold drinks.
4. A sort of tomato sauce with chorizo and cannellini beans I made to compliment the fact that I've become increasingly better at boiling eggs.
5. My skin has been giving me the run around for about a month now. I managed to get it to a good point in the summer but now it's back with a vengeance. I've seen Starface all over social media so caved in and bought the hydro-stars (£12) and Exfoliating Night Water (£10), I'm one day into using them but I'll let you know how it goes. Covering my spots with little star stickers definitely makes me feel better when I look in the mirror tbh.
6. A new girl, as I've mentioned before, has moved in with Jules and I and she bought a mirror for IKEA last weekend so I now have a new selfie spot in the flat.
Closed tabs of the week:
Royal Mail Track and Trace. Columbia Road Flower Market. Mudslide cocktail recipe. Three open tabs of the Starface website. Gold Pearl Drop Choker from Lily & Roo. Four open tabs of BBC news. A picture from last year's bonfire night.
Sorry, it's a short one, busy weekend!
Stay home, stay safe,
Lauren xo
I just did that thing when you're trying to get the last remaining drops of moisturizer from the tube so you unscrew the cap and tentatively squeeze out roughly a fingertip worth; enough to cover your face. Except I didn't do it gently, I used the full force of my thumb and 10 faces worth of product that was lurking in the very limits of the packaging exploded over my hand. I can't put it back in, the nozzle is like the eye of a needle.
November is a tricky month, let's get into it.
I have to say that I have no excuse for the delay of this post, not one, but I am sorry it wasn't on time. I've developed a line of spots that follows the edge of my face mask and I've researched (and been told) that silk masks apparently help with 'maskne'. I'm adding this to the list of things I didn't know I needed to worry about but now do.
1. I saw this from the bus before they announced the new lockdown measures at the weekend. I've already immediately revived my previous lockdown worries from March and it's been a strange few days.
2. Chocolate milk can solve just about anything - just about.
3. My new flatmate (Charlotte) was only able to manage a few nibbles of pizza before fleeing out the door for work.
4. Stood in queue to learn that I know nothing about my skin and will continue to apply body lotion liberally everywhere.
5. I did zilch for Halloween this year. The pumpkin I bought in earnest two weeks early turned to mush. We put it outside in a Tesco bag ready for the big skip in the sky where it eventually became half liquid and half orange gunk.
6. Jules split a basil plant into four smaller pots in an attempt to nurture it but this was wishful thinking.
Other bits:
I've felt very strange these past few days as we dip into a second lockdown. I keep seeing articles titled 'All The Things You Got Wrong in the First Lockdown That you Can Get Right This Time' or 'How This Lockdown is Different'. I just wanted to say, whatever you're feeling, sad, odd, weird, confused, it's all totally valid. Take the time to be gentle with yourself. I was feeling weird this evening so cooked myself a really nice dinner, had a shower, cleaned my room, did some of my online therapy course, acknowledged how I was feeling, tried not to be so excruciatingly hard on myself, made a cup of tea, considered crying and now I'm about to get into bed. It's okay.
Closed tabs of the week:
Vegan beans recipe. BBC news headlines. A Zara shopping bag with two turtleneck tops in it (because you can never have too many). A Vogue article by Annie Lord titled 'Why it's Important to Fancy Two People at Once. A photo from my 16th birthday. What does 'follow suit' mean. How to identify and treat a laundry detergent rash. Jeffery Campbell Dagget western boots (I'm in love). Famous last words meaning. Cacio e Pepe. An Acne Studios belted puffer coat in Mink brown for £800. Hydro-stars from Starface (of which pretty much all their products are out of stock and if I did want something, delivery is £5)
A quote for the week: The writer Anais Nin on how to unlock a bigger, fuller life: "Life shrinks or expands in proportion to one's courage." (Yes, this is from James Clear's email)
All the very best, stay safe,
Byeeeeeeee,
Lauren x
I also regret to inform you that I also just spent the absolute best part of five minutes rummaging through the small waste bin in my room looking for a Glossier sticker I thought had taken leave from my bedroom wall, floated down the back of my desk and found itself in the debris of the working week. Carefully lifting out discarded micellar water-soaked wool pads, Tesco receipts, clothes tags, used blister plasters (ew) sticky note reminders and crumpled Amazon packaging I believed the sticker to be lost, indefinitely. Now staring at the faint shadow outline of the beauty brand’s trademark logo, I picked at the remnants of blue-tac telling myself that sticker would've probably been worth thousands in 20 years time. No. Millions. As it turns out, I’d moved the sticker several months ago over fears that it would lose its affinity to the wall and slip between the floorboards. It’s still there, don’t worry.
Taking a rather steep change in the course of this post, I wanted to share something: In the summer I went on what I call a dating collision course (all safe) in an attempt to figure out how I go about falling in love. Stupid. Very stupid Lauren. (I'm also fairly certain I've mentioned this before but here we are!) After nearly a dozen dates I felt worse, horrid, just terrible. It was as if I had been putting my self-esteem through some rigorous, extreme pain. I ceremoniously packed in dating apps and decided to focus on myself.
Several days ago I had the extreme misfortune of experiencing something that brought with it a series of strange feelings I thought I'd altogether forgotten. In the past years, I've actively pretended the girl who fell haphazardly in love before wasn't me but someone else, anyone else. I make a point to not to use that love as a template, but I do, sometimes. It's like that inescapable love which was so dreadful I was marred by it, forever destined to wonder what I'd be like should it never have happened, if I'd taken the stairs and not the lift. Hesitated more at the amber light. Turned right instead of left. It was the kind of love that occurs in movies when you're willing the protagonist to start afresh and become a florist on the Isle of Wight and live in a cottage on the edge of a cliff with four windows and a tiny dog.
Lining up my romantic experiences side by side while thinking about my own capacity for connection and love, I analysed all those failed interactions, dead ends, rejections, lost sparks and miss fires to understand this: the love of my life is me and what I need to know is not how to love someone else but how to love me. And so, to my strange, recent encounter (and the one I'd been dreading all along) that I thought would devastate me, rob me of everything, and leave me depleted, I say thank you. Thank you for holding up a mirror to my tremendous growth, perseverance and strength at a time when I probably needed a good kick up the arse.
To the women I have become, who I always was and always will be this is for you. Plus, it's time, it's time to move on. I'm ready to let go.
To bring this all to a close I just wanted to add the following quote (I watched Brené Brown: A Call to Courage on Netflix and I 100& recommend it)
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”
- Theodore Roosevelt
All the best, stay safe,
Lauren xo
Did I ever tell you I read an article once which included a segment about how if someone (this piece pertained to guys) has their bed in the middle of their room it means they have their life together and are ready to date? Both parties then have their own 'side' of the bed and you both get your own table too I guess. I brought this memory to the forefront of my mind while talking to my flatmates last night about beds.
I got up momentarily just now to lean against my door frame and reimagine my room. My bed is currently pushed into the corner under the window which I think is quite cosy. However, I'm wondering now if I should move my bed into the middle of my room. What does my room layout say about me?
I don't have a side of the bed in London, I sleep in the middle. It's totally luxurious and I make a little nest using all the pillows. The few (few) times I've had someone over I've end up sleeping against the wall, which I don't like, and I then have to shimmy around them if I need to pee. Anyway, to conclude, don't have people over, ever, and also I'm not ready to sacrifice sleeping in the middle just yet so the bed stays where it is. Glad we could have that chat.
It's been a super super super busy week and I haven't had time to take many pictures. Another seven days down, the clocks have gone back, our pumpkin went rotten and this time next week we'll be in November.
1. Here's me, bright and early on Monday morning pulling a horrendous face that no one needs to see, but our dining table looks nice at least. And so does the eucalyptus I bought last weekend. The pumpkin is reering it's head but it was in it's final few days, I was too keen and bought one too soon. Now we are without a pumpkin this week for when it actually is Halloween.
2. A new girl has moved in with Jules and I and she's great. She's so great she brought with her these two lovely egg cups. I boiled these eggs so hard that the yoke didn't even run. Unforutnaely when I was washing up just now I went to put the egg cups away and dropped one chicken, nearly decapitating it. (The egg cups are chickens)
3. Sums up my day, fairly productive and well intenioned but not quite there.
Other bits:
1. I'm watching a new K-Drama on Netflix called She Was Pretty. It's great.
2. What do we think about the corset trend? I so nearly bought a corset at the weekend but didn't because I wasn't sure I could pull it off. I don't have any boobs either.
3. I had a massage in the middle of a shopping centre at the weekend. It was £1 a minute and I had one for 10 minutes and it changed my life.
(a corset image for context)
Tabs of the week:
Urban Outfitters Corset top. Spot Eraser from Glossier. Zoning out and trauma. ASOS satin bustier top (there's a theme here). This other random corset on ASOS marketplace that I actually quite like. A sequin bustier top from Zara. An image of me and my older brother from 14 years ago. A Barbara Bui cropped tartan overshirt for $1,860 that I stumbled across. A MyProtein gym top. Best star sign for a Pisces female (don't even ask). Sagittarius men (no). A returns barcode for something. Santuario Madonna della Corona (a church).
Quote of the week: “You either walk inside your story and own it or you stand outside your story and hustle for your worthiness.” - from none other than Brené Brown.
Okay goodbye, goodnight, stay safe!
Lauren xo
I’ve been trying to figure out how to introduce this week’s Sunday Summary but it’s been a strange 72 hours, to say the least. I’m in the process of boiling some eggs (right now, next to me, in a pan) and I’m making my own chicken ramen for the first time.
London went into a secondary lockdown (pretty much) at midnight on Friday, along with other cities across the UK, as the government introduced new restrictions to help try curve the rising cases of Coronavirus. My anxiety and I have been on a steady incline for several consecutive days since this news also escalated.
Another seven days down of 2020, let’s get into it.
What’s the general consensus on bumping into people a) you haven’t seen for a while and b) weren’t expecting to see. Maybe not even bumping into, maybe just seeing from a distance and being so alarmed you completely forget regular bodily functions, assuming fight or flight immediately. That’s where I'm at after it happened today.
1. Coffee from a walk…
2. …I took myself for an early morning stroll at the beginning of the week. I feel like I’ve been waking up on the wrong side of the bed for days so it was nice to get up, nip out and feel the fresh morning air.
3. Couscous, roasted peppers and harissa in bed
4. In my opinion, Krispy Kreme makes the best doughnuts...maybe ever...
5. Flowers from the market! I loveeeeee Sunday flowers from the market, they make my whole week. When I was putting them in separate vases earlier (one being an old washed out glass coffee pot) I considered what it would be like to be a florist. How does one become a florist?
6. I bought a sweater vest a few months ago and here’s me trying to get some wear out of it. I do really like it though, it’s very warm. Maybe I need a big beige overcoat? I keep seeing people around London wearing them and I have coat envy- of course - it’s that time of year.
Tabs from the week:
Eytys Cypress Tar Jeans (I want these so badly but £190?) Ruby’s Soho. 15 Mistakes you definitely don’t want to make in the gym (I’ll start: don’t snog someone who works there). Kermit the frog at Christmas. NYX Epic Ink Liner (which I bought btw and I’ve already botched the nib). Royal Mail track and trace, again.
A quote from the James Clear newsletter I’m always banging on about: ‘I’d estimate at least half of my frustrations with others are actually frustrations with myself for failing to set clear boundaries and stand by them’.
Until the next one, stay safe,
Lauren xo
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